Mothering is a verb
The voices in me are having a field day this week, praying on that elusive fluid idea: being a good mother. I’m not a person driven by guilt, unless I’ve blindly let someone down. Then I can swim in the soupy stuff with the best of them. I’m all about trying to get it “right” and usually accepting that when I don’t, I did the best I could with my understanding of myself and the situation. It’s not a perfect approach, but works well for me.
Recently, I’ve been focused on calming the pissy little person within me whom I’ve mentioned in recent weeks. She seems to calm down when I take time to ask her what she’s so pissy about (don’t we all just want to be heard sometimes?). And her answers lead me to really focus on what it means to me to mother my kids in ways that I can be proud of.
Consequently, I’ve eased off my expectation that my 4 year old daughter will make her bed, pick up her clothes and keep the stuff off the floor. Why? Because I’m accepting that this is just not fun stuff and at the age of 4 she’s still all about fun and should be allowed to be. She eagerly does chores when she thinks they’re fun. But doing them daily - not so fun. So I’m trying to relax about that. That means that I have to find a good reason to do it myself and I’m surprised that “mothering” seems to be the reason I’m settling into. I am neatly folding her clothes and organizing her drawers (which are regularly strewn with toppled piles of formerly neat clothes), I’m picking up the floor and not grumbling about it.
This new point of view I’m finding quite liberating. If I take it to its logical conclusion however, it becomes a bit unsettling. It follows like this: mothering my kids is about taking care of all the little details so the not-yet-school-aged kids can focus on learning through play and having fun. I will organize their rooms, toys, and books. I will lead them to both chores and fun stuff which, when they are ready, they will learn from and take on as their own. (I am not accounting here for all the stuff which is clearly mothering and already under control like healthy foods, laundry, conjuring activities/lessons, park treks, tickle fights, streetcar rides etc. etc..). This stuff, were it to be done exclusively by me would take up my entire life. Here’s the rub point.
Do I have the balance right? Am I spending enough time playing with them and enough time doing the things which mother them? Have I carved out too much time for my caregiver to be with them so I can do my freelance work?
The light just went on; that was the right question to ask. The crux of this lies in the caregiver and her contribution to doing the mothering things I want done for my kids so they can focus on kid’s stuff.
This must be the key all content working mothers share: the quality of the care. I read a letter of praise today for a daycare of Kids & Company’s. The mother complimented the staff on their attention to loving care, the warm meals, and the report card at day’s end which documented all things emotional, physical, and intellectual from the child’s day. She said it was a “calming of the heart feeling” to know that her son was getting such fine, quality care.
I understood her sentiment. Our Jane is the envy of my mother friends and I receive regular compliments about how loving she is with our kids. I see her taking care of all the mothering details I do, and she loves the kids as the kids love her. Does that make me jealous? It makes me feel blessed because we all get some Light from our symbiotic relationship.
So to the little voice within me who is keen on me continuing to mother my kids without rushing them to the responsibilities of being “big” before they are ready — I hear you. And keep talking to me; you’re a good little teacher. As for the mother in me who is enjoying the self-satisfaction of minding all the little details — carpe diem.